


A Phone Call Away

by sapphicangstfest



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8346367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicangstfest/pseuds/sapphicangstfest
Summary: Based on spoilers for 19x03. What might happen, or what I hope might happen. (Also based on my love for the grey hoodie!)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've written for years, apologies if I'm a little rusty but I've had a lot of headcanons of late and I just had to write something.

Over a month had passed since Bernie had rushed out of the hospital and left Serena behind. Since then, she'd had plenty of time to think and enough space to weigh up her feelings. Sometimes she was convinced that Bernie was right, that she had forced herself into a confession of love because she couldn’t bear to see her go. But other times, when she was alone in bed at night, or during a quiet moment on the ward, she remembered the warm glow that had filled her when Bernie had kissed her that morning. She loved her, deeply, and it hurt that she wasn’t by her side.

It had been a long day with multiple trauma patients arriving in a steady stream. To top it all, Imelda Cousins had been hovering behind her, scribbling notes on her clipboard and making grunts of judgement every time Serena moved.

In theatre, she found herself missing Bernie’s presence more than usual. Of course, she was a consummate professional, and surgery was never impossible, but there was no one there to joke with her over the operating table or support her when she felt her confidence faltering. Now, Jason had been waiting for her for an hour after she'd got stuck in a difficult operation. When it was finally over, she headed to the office to collect her things, noticing her phone blinking with the messages he had left. She sighed heavily at the thought of going home without a drink at Albie’s first. Without a laugh and a chat with her colleagues. Without Bernie.

Having stuffed all of her papers into her bag, she moved towards the coat stand, grabbing her coat from the pile. As she lifted it from the hook, something fell from beneath it onto the ground. She bent to pick it up, achy and tired, the material feeling surprisingly soft to the touch. Absentmindedly, she went to replace it, suddenly realising what she was holding. A grey NHS hoodie. Bernie’s hoodie. She sank to the floor, clutching it to her chest, leaning her head against the desk. Inhaling, she smelled the familiar scent of cigarettes and soap. Tears began to form as she ran her hands across the fabric. Wanting to feel Bernie near, she draped the jumper over her back and closed her eyes. She imagined her strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, her hushed voice soothing the troubles of the day away.

_It’s going to be alright, Serena._  
_It’s not your fault._  
_I care about you._

If only the words weren’t in her head, if Bernie’s fingers were intertwined with hers, if her gentle lips were dusting her cheek. If only she was at home, waiting for her to arrive, to have dinner together and fall asleep curled up on the sofa.

Her phone buzzed and flashed again on the floor beside her.

**11 new messages.**

‘Oh, help,’ she whispered, face still wet with tears.

Immediately, her finger hovered over the new message. Jason was her priority. She opened the conversation. He was waiting for dinner. He had gone to the kitchen. He had found her instructions next to some leftovers. He had heated the food. He had eaten. He was watching Pointless. He was watching University Challenge, then Only Connect. He was going to take a shower. He was going to bed. Good night, Auntie Serena. At least he wasn’t hurt, or upset. They had been getting on remarkably well. But he had been noticing how she sometimes forgot to put any water in the kettle, or how she had left her work notes at home three days in a row.

Finally summoning up the energy to stand, Serena picked up the phone. It started ringing.

**Incoming Call: Bernie.**

Her hands were shaking but she managed to steady them enough to answer.

‘Serena?’

‘Hello.’

‘Did you get my message?’

‘Well, no, I’m afraid I-I- haven’t ... it’s been one of those days.’

‘Right. You sound exhausted. Am I keeping you awake?’

‘No, no. I haven’t even left work yet.’

‘What? Is Hanssen on your back again? Because he assured me that he would find someone to take on the extra workload - ’

‘I’m fine,’ her voice cracked as she lied, ‘... we’ve had Imelda Cousins here doing another review, but obviously that’s nothing I can’t handle.’

It was incredible how the conversation flowed, Serena thought, as if one of them hadn't run away to the other side of Europe. Bernie was concerned about her. She still cared.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, thank you, Ms. Wolfe. I do know how to negotiate a ward. I have been doing it successfully for some years now. What did your message say?’

The fatigue was setting in. It was making her irritable. That was why she was snapping at Bernie. Nothing else.

‘Not much, really. I just - I just wanted to see how you were. Now, this Imelda woman – be honest. Is she giving you a hard time?’

Be honest? That’s rich coming from a habitual liar. No, that isn’t fair. Oh, how she had missed Bernie this week. She always missed her; every waking moment, she was aware of a part of herself that was incomplete. She felt on top of the world when Bernie Wolfe looked at her and she caught a lively glint in those deep brown eyes. Lately she had been feeling the loss more acutely. The work was heavy and there was no light relief. She didn't even have the prospect of seeing her as an incentive to get out of bed. Then Tristan Wood had thrown an even bigger spanner into the works, sending Imelda to check up on her. Just what she needed. The relentless scrutiny of her private life wasn't enough, now they had to start on her career too.

Imelda had gone for the jugular, criticising her methods, her staff, her nephew, and the trauma unit. She had managed to defend the first three admirably, but when she’d started rattling on about how the trauma unit seemed understaffed and ill-organised, and how she would be taking the matter to the board, Serena had cracked. How dare she criticise the innovation and hard work of Major Berenice Wolfe, ex-army medic with decades of frontline surgical experience, a woman who had quite literally risked her life to save others and who had spent months ensuring that this unit was safe, productive and efficient. How dare she criticise the most fantastic, fearless doctor in this entire hospital.

She had fought for Bernie until she felt numb. As soon as Imelda had gone, she wanted to pick up the phone and rant to her co-lead about the indignity of it all, but then she had been called into theatre and now here she was.

‘Giving _you_ a hard time’s more like it.’

‘Me? But I've never even laid eyes on her.’

‘She had an awful lot to say about your precious trauma unit.’

She sighed heavily.

‘To be honest, Bernie, I don’t know what will happen. I tried my best but she’s been like a terrier yapping at my ankles all day. She wears me down and I’m just so tired.’

‘Serena, don’t worry. Go home. Take a nice long bath. Relax. I’ll be back soon.’

How she had needed to hear those words of comfort from the one source that could lift her mood tenfold. She could feel the weight of the day beginning to fizzle away. Bernie's voice was soft, almost a whisper, but Serena could hear it quivering with emotion.

‘How soon? I need to see you ... I need to talk to you. Properly. Face-to-face.’

‘I know, and we will, the moment I get back. I promise.’

Serena could feel the tears blurring her vision again. Her mouth was dry and rough, and she swallowed to clear the lump that was choking her. She simply could not speak, and was grateful when Bernie broke the silence.

‘Good night. Make sure you get plenty of rest.’

‘Good night, Bernie. I lo-’

_Don’t say it, Campbell. You know what happened last time._

She cleared her throat to disguise the words threatening to come bursting out. It took such strength to restrain herself.

‘I look forward to seeing you soon.’

‘I’ll be counting down the days,’ Bernie chuckled, that suggestive, gentle laugh she had missed so much, ‘’night.’

**Call ended.**

She took a moment to consider the conversation. Then an overwhelming feeling of guilt washed over her. She had been so caught up in her own problems, she'd forgotten to ask how Bernie was. Surely she was exhausted too - perhaps she had called because she'd had a bad day and needed some support. It was the first time they'd spoken for weeks and all she'd done was grumble. She hadn't even told her the most important thing.

Serena plunged her face into the hoodie, breathing Bernie in. It was damp from her tears, and her mascara bled into the material. In the half-light of the office, the black dots could have been freckles peppering Bernie’s pale skin.

‘I love you.’


End file.
